


Between the lines of fear and blame

by Techno_Zav



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, basically the aftermath of seijoh losing to karasuno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Techno_Zav/pseuds/Techno_Zav
Summary: The light wind ruffles the fall ready trees, and orange, yellow, and brown leaves flutter into the grass at Oikawa’s feet. He follows the path of one, half yellow, half green, as it swirls and dances through the air. It gives him a way to avoid Iwaizumi's eyes.“If you lose the war, it’s not the soldier’s fault, Hajime,” he says. “It’s the commander who has failed them all.”
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 88





	Between the lines of fear and blame

**Author's Note:**

> So basically it's 2020, the anime is onto the spring inter-high arc, and I'm still feeling it because Oikawa Tooru will never get the chance to toss to Iwaizumi Hajime at nationals. 
> 
> An expansion of @moami 's tumblr drabble

Oikawa slips from the changeroom unnoticed. Eyes downcast to the floor, he makes his way down the concrete front steps, across the street, and plops himself down into the dying grass of the park. He knows he should be with the rest of the team, going over their plays, talking about that sudden jarring loss. What worked and what didn’t. But something unpleasant has settled itself in the pit of his stomach, that he doesn’t want spilling over. 

Besides, Oikawa knows what didn’t work. 

Since the semifinal qualifier match ended mere minutes ago, all that’s been running through his head are the mistakes. The failed jump serves, the imperfect tosses to his spikers, the spikes that kept getting caught by the other team’s blockers. As a setter, the main control tower, Oikawa knows he’s playing the position with the most control over the court; he’s the one who decides which attacks to play, which spikers to utilize. 

yet today it felt like he couldn’t sync with his team at all. His spikers, the ones he’s been playing alongside for all three of his high school years, and some for even longer -- it felt like they were one step off from him, hesitating because their commander wasn’t confident in the right places. As the setter and captain, he knows the whole team was looking up to him to lead them to success. 

Oikawa knows what went wrong. 

_He_ went wrong. 

The warm weather is unusually nice for this time of year, and the upbeat sun envelops Oikawa’s exhausted body. There’s a gentle breeze to the air that ghosts over his skin, working to clear the sparse clouds hovering in the sky. He takes a deep breath in and holds it, waits till he knows it won't waver on the way out before he exhales, long and slow. In the gym at his back, Oikawa just lost the match of his lifetime. Semifinals, with only one team able to qualify for the Nationals --Victory ripped away from him by the simple equation of Oikawa not being good enough and the opposing team being that much better. 

Cruel, Oikawa thinks as he looks out at the park in front of him, that the sun can still feel so warm. 

“Oi!”

Oikawa turns, hands stilling where they’ve started ripping blades of grass into little pieces. 

“Hey, knew I’d find you out here,” Iwaizumi Hajime says as he drops into the grass beside Oikawa. “You better not be shouldering that loss all on your own, idiot.”

Oikawa turns to his best friend with tense shoulders and clenched fists. His cheeks are wet, and he knows his eyes must be all red and puffy. “If you lose the war, it’s not the soldier’s fault, Hajime,” he says, voice defiant against the rock in the pit of his stomach. “It’s the commander who has failed them all.”

But we’re not in a battle, dumbass, is the retort Oikawa waits for, but Iwaizumi’s go-to insult doesn’t come. 

Around him, the light wind ruffles the fall ready trees, and orange, yellow, brown leaves flutter into the grass at Oikawa’s feet. He follows the path of one, half yellow half green, as it swirls and dances through the air, graceful. It gives him a way to avoid meeting Iwaizumi's eyes. 

The downside of Childhood best friends: Iwaizumi can read him a little too well.

Despite being no stranger to losing, this defeat is everything to Oikawa. When he won the best setter award in middle school, Iwaizumi was there, standing proud beside him when he went up to receive it, and for weeks after, was there to reel his ego back in when it teetered on dangerously big. Was even there to yank Oikawa back upright when his never-ending faux confidence faltered just enough for self-doubt to cloud Oikawa’s head. When Oikawa strained his knee two years later and had to spend a week on crutches, Iwaizumi was there, a constant support holding him up when he felt like the world was a river, raging forward and leaving him behind to drown. 

_Sink or swim, what’ll it be?_

The award, all the time and energy spent towards recovery, the hours spent at physio, the long nights he laid in bed, sleep so far off it wasn’t even frustrating anymore, tossing a volleyball up into the air, mastering ball control - it all feels worthless now. 

Now, beside him, Iwaizumi is quiet. 

Oikawa closes his eyes and sees an imprint of Kageyama standing over top of his crumpled body, triumphantly holding a flag of victory that’s he and the rest of the crows have stuck deep into the mud beside him. Black vines spin from the ground, wrapping up the legs and arms of his teammates, preventing them from getting up. The white support bandage wrapped around Oikawa’s knee acts as the white flag of surrender, a staple of defeat on display for everyone to see. A blatant usurping from Oikawa’s own underclassman. And right from the start, this has always been a battle of the better setter, hasn’t it?

The sky above Oikawa gleams, but he keeps his eyes closed as he shifts on the grass, leaning into Iwaizumi just enough that their shoulders gently press together. Teams are only as strong as their weakest link, and after losing to the very setter Oikawa mentored, he feels the weakest of them all.

Just like that, Oikawa’s transported right back to middle school, Iwaizumi’s hand cool and rough on his wrist where he’d grabbed him to stop him from striking Kageyama. Oikawa remembers the shame he’d felt instantly, hand trapped in Iwaizumi’s strong grip and Kageyama’s shocked face staring at him, innocent to Oikawa’s turmoil. How all Oikawa could think when Kageyama approached him was Stay Away and Don’t Come Near Me. 

_“Calm down, dumbass!”_ Iwaizumi had yelled, stepping fast between the two of them, voice raised at Oikawa. Then, _“Kageyama, sorry, but that’ll be all for today.”_ Followed by the question in Kageyama’s eyes and the sheer disappointment on Iwaizumi's face. Like Iwaizumi couldn’t believe that Oikawa had fully intended to make the punch land and Kageyama couldn't understand why Oikawa had acted so violently when all he’d asked for was a simple request; _“Please teach me how to jump-serve.”_ As if Kageyama knew he was an up- and-coming genius with unprecedented talent yet was unaware that Oikawa, who was working his ass off overtime to be nearly half as good, had every right to hate him. 

More than that though, Oikawa is right back to the moment after, when Iwaizumi had swiveled on him, eyes truly angry, and all the bitter jealousy had faded from Oikawa instantly. How he'd been left feeling sick and so, so, sorry. The moment of shock on both of their faces once Kageyama had left the gym, and the weight of what had almost happened settled heavily on both of them. When they walked home that night, Oikawa remembers that Iwaizumi had put more space between them than usual, so that where their hands would occasionally brush, Iwaizumi's hands were stuck deep in his pockets. 

Oikawa opens his eyes. Sunlight burning down the back of his neck. His chest feels tight, his throat too dry. He feels like he's walking a tightrope that gets thinner the further he walks, where underneath him is pitch black and turning around has never been an option.

Iwaizumi stretches his arms up to the endless sky and then reaches behind and pops Oikawa on the back of the head.

“Hey!-”

“Dumbass. The world doesn’t end just because you lose.”

But Oikawa’s head is still spinning, and he hates that after a year, nothing has changed. Not since the last suffering defeat, at last year’s spring interhigh, when his team was in the exact same position - eliminated from the bracket a handful of victories away from the qualifying spot by a team with players who are skilled in ways that Oikawa can only dream of being. When Beating Kageyama in the previous match had felt natural, and the freak duo were nothing more than a blip on Oikawa's radar. Losing to Shiratorizawa had stung, of course it had, but somehow this present loss to Karasuno stings more than Oikawa can put into words.

He drops his head into his hands and hopes Iwaizumi misses the quiet, “but it feels like it,” that Oikawa lets escape his lips.

_Does anyone ever become accustomed to defeat?_

_Well, it's probably that nobody actually thinks they’re going to lose._

Iwaizumi’s joints pop as he pushes himself onto his feet. Oikawa notices that the grass has left imprints in his tanned legs. He fights the impulse to reach out and trace them with his fingers, mind weak and body still running on overdrive from the exertion the past match just put him through. 

Iwaizumi shoves one of Oikawa’s shoulders, trying to get him to look up at him.

“You know,” he pauses, and Oikawa knows that he’s waiting for Oikawa to lift his head and meet his gaze. Oikawa does the former but can’t bring himself to do the latter, choosing to focus on where the collar of Iwaizumi’s jersey is a little off kilter, revealing a stretch of skin taunt across Iwaizumi's dark collarbones.

With the sun over his left shoulder Iwaizumi’s torso is cast in shadows, lines of muscles hard to define without the sun’s rays lighting them up. But then Iwaizumi’s shifting his weight, leaning into his right hip so the sunlight slides off Oikawa’s face and he can look up at Iwaizumi’s body without having to squint.

“This defeat isn’t yours alone. How many times have I told you this?”

“But, Iwa-chan, this time it's-”

The glare that gets sent his way cuts him off before he can tell Iwaizumi that he’s wrong. This time it was his uncertainty and his lack of strong leadership that let the team succumb to Karasuno.

“No, be quiet for once. Volleyball is a sport where the team is only at its strongest with 6 players; not as a commander and 5 soldiers, or a setter and 5 valuable players like your shitty mind let’s you believe, but as a team that strives off the strength of every single member. Every single one, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi speaks urgently, like if he doesn’t get it out now he might never.

“But I should have-”

Iwaizumi's bending down in front of him, crouching with his weight on the balls of his feet. A hand comes to rest on Oikawa’s thigh as Iwaizumi steadies himself and another reaches forward, so that Iwaizumi's pressing a gentle finger to Oikawa's lips, effectively stopping that sentence from escaping. The hand on his thigh leaves almost as soon as it lands and Oikawa’s skin tingles, involuntary goosebumps rising on his arms from the brief touch. The finger at his lips takes longer to leave. And that’s a slippery slope - he knows that - one that’ll never end once Oikawa steers them down that path. He knows, yet his brain supplies him with the _would have, could have, should have’s_ of anyway. The What If scenarios that are pointless, _he knows_ , yet cycle through his mind nonetheless.

The breeze kicks up again, brushing at Oikawa’s sweat-slick limbs. Far above him there’s not a cloud in sight.

 _Strong_ , Oikawa thinks, eyes lowering to his knees, one bare, one wrapped in white, _if I was the strongest player on the court today, where would that have gotten us?_

“No.” Iwaizumi stands up abruptly, eyes set and body suddenly stern. “‘Should have, Could have’, we’ll be here all day if you start that shit. You're being stupid and I'm about to sound stupid, I know, but for once in your life, _please just actually turn your stupid brain off and listen to me._ "

Oikawa hands still where he’s resumed pulling at the grass and he drops the shreds into his lap, surprised at the urgency peeking through Iwaizumi’s tone. He looks up, but Iwaizumi is no longer looking at him, wind ruffling his hair as he rubs the back of his neck, gaze drawn to some interesting spot over Oikawa’s head that Oikawa can’t see. And it could be the warmth of the sun or the exertion from the match, but the tips of his ears look to be a little pink.

It puzzles Oikawa, to see Iwaizumi like this - while he's used to pushing Iwaizumi far enough that he loses patience because of Oikawa's 'stupidity', the touch of shyness and insecurity on Iwaizumi's face is new. From preschool to now, around seventeen years of friendship in the books, Oikawa’s always been the one to place his vulnerabilities on display. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, has always been the visibly strong one.

Oikawa crosses his legs, then uncrosses them and draws them into his chest instead.

“Just-- Oikawa, save this feeling for next time. Bottle this - whatever it is - up inside you, remember it, and when the time comes, use it as an incentive to never feel this way. You were the strongest person on the court today, and the only person who couldn’t see it was you. How many- I’ve been saying this for years, Oikawa, it’s time you finally listened. What’s that quote you have on your wall? _"Talent is something you make bloom?”_ You’re not a genius, and you don’t have freak talent like Kayegama and Hinata-kun, and you’re not Shiratorizawa-type strong, either, but you’re far from being weak. You're stupid brain wont let you see this, but you’re strong in your own way, and you have this innate ability to make every single person on our side of the court even stronger than they already are.”

Oikawa Tooru is not a genius. If anyone knows that, it's him.

But Oikawa wants to stop him and tell him he’s wrong, that obviously Kageyama and his freak-shrimpy-other-half were the strongest - _are_ the strongest - that Karasuno are clearly the stronger team since they actually walked away with the victory, duh -- but now that the words are out in the air in front of him, Oikawa’s listening to them whether he wants to or not.

He finds his thoughts replacing themselves with Iwaizumi’s voice, as if his words are the most obvious thing out there.

_Strong. What if all 6 of us were the strongest people on the court today? Where would we be?_

And Oikawa finds himself looking for the tension that he knows must line Iwaizumi’s shoulders. When he sees it, alongside the foot that won't stop bouncing in the grass and the hands balled into fists like that'll prevent them from shaking, he wants to reach out and still them both. Wants to run his hands along Iwaizumi’s shoulders until they drop the tension and relax. Trace the furrow in his brow until his face softens.

Yet, there’s determination swirling alongside the self-doubt in Iwaizumi’s irises.

Oikawa realises then that Iwaizumi is shouldering the blame just as much as Oikawa is. Probably thinks it's his fault that his last spike lacked half the power it usually has, when really, it was Oikawa's fault for messing up the toss. Must blame himself just as much as Oikawa does for the upsetting loss. In fact, his whole team - coaches included - are probably over-analyzing and beating themselves up over every single thing they did or did not do during the mere forty-seven minutes they were fighting on the court.

“Iwa-chan, I-”

They really thought this was their year, didn’t they?

But it's not their year and the world keeps moving forward, unforgiving.

Oikawa leans back on his hands, tips his head back and sighs, long and loud. What are thoughts and how do you articulate them? Iwaizumi's not wrong, even Oikawa can see that much, but it's one thing to listen to the words and another to believe them. 

“We should go back in.”

It’s not the words he wants to say, but Oikawa doesn’t know how to voice the tightness in his chest. Doesn’t know what to make of today, of how Iwaizumi had purposely sought him out and said the words Oikawa needed to hear. How he knew which words to avoid. Lifted the weight of inadequacy from Oikawa’s shoulders like it was an easy task to do. It’s worth noting, how Iwaizumi can show him that he isn’t alone in any of this and that the blame can never be shoulder by one person.

Iwaizumi nods, holding out a hand for Oikawa to take. With the sun haloing around his toned body, Iwaizumi looks almost ethereal; Oikawa knows there’s nothing dainty or light or weak about him, though.

Oikawa fits their hands together like it’s natural and sore muscles protest as he lets Iwaizumi haul him to his feet. When he’s upright, Iwaizumi tugs their still connected hands forward and lets Oikawa fold his body around Iwaizumi.

“I just don’t want to be left behind. Did you see how much better Tobio was today?” Oikawa says, voice muffled by Iwaizumi’s collarbone.

“You won’t be, dumbass-”

“Give him another year or two to hone his talent, and top teammates like Ushiwaka or an even stronger libero at his back than Nishinoya-kun, and he’ll be unbeatable-”

“Oikawa, I could say the same for you-”

“But-”

“-and besides, you’re so loud and annoying that no one could ever leave you anywhere, it’d be so quiet that the world would probably fall apart.”

“Iwa-chan! That's mean!”

But the mood has shifted between them, just like that, and Oikawa's quick to pick up the teasing atmosphere that they've fallen into. Quick jabs at soft spots that remain light instead of hurtful, something that's only natural for them after so many years of learning how to exist besides one another. 

The defeat still stings, and it will, for a while at least, but Oikawa finds that the tightness in his chest has begun to loosen, replacing itself with a strange feeling of familiarity.

“But wait, does that mean you miss me when I’m not around?”

“Ha- as if.”

“Rude, rude, you’re so rude to me. And after all I do for you,” He quips, hands reaching out to jab at Iwaizumi’s sides. “This is how you repay me?”

The hug doesn’t last long after that, with Iwaizumi retaliating by grabbing Oikawa in a headlock until he’s crying mercy.

It’s just long enough for Oikawa to breath, to remember how to breath, and when they separate, he finds himself smiling again. Not quite back to the real one he saves for Iwaizumi, but it’s not the fake one he gave his teammates when they lined up at the net to shake hands. Whatever it is, he feels lighter than before -- almost strong enough to go back and face his team, be the support for them that Iwaizumi is effortlessly for him.

The grass crinkles underfoot as Oikawa takes a step back. He notices that whatever was lurking behind Iwaizumi’s eyes before is now mostly gone, replaced wholly by the determination that was building when he first sat down in the grass beside Oikawa.

 _Good, Oikawa thinks,_ because determination looks better on you than guilt and self-doubt ever did.

And then Iwaizumi's stepping forward, closing the gap that Oikawa just made to press a gentle kiss into Oikawa's hair. 

It's a combo of the warm air around them, Oikawa's brain still on overdrive, and the emotions running high from the roller-coaster of the afternoon that leads Oikawa to say _fuck it, I give up._ He takes Iwaizumi's face in his hands, tilts his head and kisses him properly. 

Oikawa shouldn't be as surprised as he is that Iwaizumi kisses him back with zero hesitance, and it makes Oikawa wonder just how long, exactly, this has been building for. It's everything and nothing like Oikawa imagined kissing Iwaizumi would be like.

And it’d be worth commenting on, how well Iwaizumi knows him - Even though Iwaizumi's lips sliding against his own is uncharted territory, his presence is nothing less than a familiar comfort to Oikawa. A pillar of strength he’d never admit to needing as much as he does. But Iwaizumi can see right through him, anyway, somehow always knowing the right amount of support that Oikawa needs, and how Oikawa always needs more than he’ll ever find the words to say.

When they pull apart and fingers untangle from hair and let go of jerseys, Oikawa thinks that there might be a limit to what can be said with words.

The insults and the teasing pick back up again as they walk back into the gymnasium, steps matching and shoulders bumping because of how close they’re walking. And this would be worth commenting on, too, if either of them cared to notice.

And Oikawa is still walking the tightrope, straddling the line between fear of inadequacy and total blame for the shattering loss, but as the sun beats warm and heavy on the number 1 on the back of his jersey, he knows that no matter which way he teeters, he'll have teammates at his sides ready to prevent him from falling all the way.


End file.
